


Contact

by pineapplepolvoron



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Din’s POV, Gen, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, bottom Din, dream fic, first fic in a long time, im sorry it’s bad, lowkey angst, memories ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplepolvoron/pseuds/pineapplepolvoron
Summary: He would never admit it, but he’s been searching for something since his parents died, and he hasn’t stopped searching.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Paz Vizla
Comments: 9
Kudos: 111





	Contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



> wrote this in one go. it’s midterms week, so i figured, “what can i do besides studying?”

He is eight years old and in his old covert, his home. He watches Paz train with the other foundlings, kicked up dirt settling like fog around their midsections. A friendly brawl breaks out, starting with Paz shoving another child in the bum with his foot. The child, an unusually large Drall, goes sprawling on the floor. She immediately launches herself at Paz’s legs, flying with enough force to knock him backwards. They tumble, goodnaturedly pulling at each other’s hair and sending punches. Din watches, captivated, and smiles to himself. There is no clear winner when Nona, a recently sworn Mandalorian in charge of the youth, calls for them to break and eat dinner.  
He refuses to leave a room last. He waits for Paz to come to the door before chasing after him. When he makes eye contact with Nona, or at least he thinks he does, a blaster shot pierces his ears.  
He is not on a battlefield, but civilian bodies litter the ground nonetheless. The quaint town his covert resided in is under attack. Bandits swarm the streets, but their presence isn’t the problem: it’s the sheer number of them coupled with the amount of foundlings out and about. He pulls the Drall, Moran, away from the open fire, and another Mandalorian ushers them into the underground tunnels. Only when they are in Paz’s arms with the other foundlings does he realize he is dreaming.  
Moran never made it out of the streets.

He wakes up to his taking the oath. It is his thirteenth birthday. Paz waits for him outside the Armorer’s door; he is not yet old enough to be a witness to the Creed. His _buir _exits with him, proud of the choice her son made. He stands in front of his oldest friend, letting him take in the image of his new _buy’ce _, shiny and cold from the cooling agents it was dipped in. Paz grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him into a rough side hug. His helmet bangs against the other’s pauldron, but for the first time in a long time he is happy, and he sinks into his brother’s embrace. His _buir _places a supportive hand on his shoulder, and he relishes the contact.  
He hasn’t loved like this since Moran tackled Paz years ago.______

_____ _

_____ _

Paz’s overbearing grip on his arm evolves into a desperate and weak tug. The child whines softly, having watched his father stagger to the floor. A particularly nasty blow to the head while on the job makes him lie prone in the too small cockpit. He lies to the child, telling him he just needs to rest. The baby clearly doesn’t believe him, and his claws scrape against the _beskar’gam _. Din feels the sweet release of pressure from his head, and he bites back a sharp intake of breath. Without the weight of the oceans pressing behind his eyes, he finally sits up slowly, reaching around to grab the wobbling child. He cradles his son in his arms, thankful for the contact. The kid shuts his eyes, and Din promises to get him as many live frogs as he’d like. He stands up, intending to place his son in his crib, when his ship fades into an inn room, taking the child with it.__

Arms wrap around his waist from behind, pressing his back to the other person’s chest. Corin’s face burrows into the crook of Din’s neck. It’s just a dream, so he allows himself the luxury of being held. He feels Corin’s heart beat strong and steady, acting as a lifeline he never knew he needed. Hands move to his hips, and Corin breathes something unintelligible to him, lips ghosting his collarbone. It’s just a dream, so Din turns around and faces his companion, his _cyar’ika _. He stares into two skies that are slowly darkening and rests his forehead against Corin’s. It’s just a dream, so he lets the other man take off his armor. With unparalleled reverence, he is undressed, each piece of armor stripped of him and laid aside. It’s just a dream, so Din guides Corin’s hands to his helmet. They make eye contact once more before lifting together; warm air hits his face unpleasantly, and Corin laughs at the expression Din makes. A single moment lasts before Corin cradles the Mandalorian’s face, eyes lidded and gliding over the man’s features. It’s just a dream, so Din leans in and kisses the ex-trooper. He wraps one hand gently around the base of his neck, fingers grazing the freshly shorn hair, drumming on the top of his spine. Corin’s hands fall back to Din’s hips, and he pushes the taller man against the wall.  
He pulls back far sooner than Din would like, but it only lasts a second - their lips crash into each other’s, teeth tug on his bottom lip, and the second tongue in his mouth makes Din’s toes curl. Their bodies are pressed flush together; heat pools into the taller man’s core when he feels the way Corin’s fingertips flit underneath his shirt.  
He whines when Corin breaks from him, but quickly stops when the man reattaches at his neck. He moves his mouth up and up and up and up and finally finds Din’s pulse. His knees feel weak when the other man presses an exploratory tongue against that point. The only thing keeping him upright when Corin gently bites down is the returned grip on his hips. But even that touch is fleeting as the hands drift down.  
Nails dig into the backs of his thighs, hiking him up the wall and guiding his legs around Corin’s waist. If he didn’t feel Din’s growing erection before, he certainly could now.  
The hands moved to his back, a supportive and convenient way to press them even closer together. Corin carries them to the bed, squirming when the Mandalorian races his fingers up his sides. He breaks the assault on his neck to laugh, throwing his head back and filling the room with his joy. It’s the most beautiful sight Din has been graced with. Then some part of Corin _shifts _, and Din reflexively grinds up, chasing that contact. Corin’s laugh hitches, and they fall unceremoniously on the bed.  
Corin catches his eye, and, seeing how breathless the other man is, rolls his hips. Din grinds back, softly moaning at the way their members feel pressed together. His hands fall to his sides, and Corin props his own head up on his right hand, enjoying the view. His left hand glides up the Mandalorian’s inner thigh, teasing him before being placed hesitantly over the tent in his pants. Din covers Corin’s hand with his own, urging him on. Before long, Corin slides off the bed, kneeling at the foot. He undoes the other man’s pants and reaches in, squeezing and rhythmically pulsing. Din’s back arches, and he hisses curses in Mando’a. As if telling him to continue, Corin pumps and teases his slit, fingers already slick with precum.  
Din bites back a gasp when he feels a finger enter him. It curls against his walls, and he shouts, pleading for that contact. Instead, the finger slips out of him, leaving him whining. He thanks numerous gods that Corin’s other hand never stopped pumping. He glances down and meets blue eyes looking for permission. He jerks into the hand, his own curling and nearly tearing into the course bed sheets. He arches his back again when Corin takes him into his mouth. His head bobs and his cheeks hollow and his tongue searches and it takes everything Din has to not release right there. Corin takes him in and in, and Din feels himself hit the back of Corin’s throat, feels Corin gag a little but continue anyway. He pries his fingers from the sheets to grip the dark hair of his partner. He’s certain he tugs too hard, but Corin doesn’t seem to mind. His own labored breathing fills the room, and he tilts Corin’s head up. They make eye contact, and Din chokes out,  
“Corin, I-”____

_____ _

_____ _

He jolts awake, sweaty in a good way. He notices the ship just came out of hyperspace, and he realizes he’s in the pilot seat, his neck aching from being bent at an awkward angle. He stands up and stretches his legs, belatedly and embarrassingly noticing his hard-on. From the lower deck, he hears the child’s giggles and Corin’s muffled speech. He sits back down and attempts to will his erection away. Din glances longingly at the door before turning back to put the ship in manual control.

**Author's Note:**

> it’s not good by any means, but it’s a fic isn’t it?
> 
> ps. join our mandorin discord server https://discord.gg/XZWc54J


End file.
